Peace of Mind
by WolfChaser97
Summary: Draco Malfoy was a pureblood Slytherin with plenty to say about his father. She was an American muggleborn, introverted but quick witted. Once upon a time they were friends; but can that hold true after the war has consumed him?
1. Chapter 1

_First Year_

Finding the platform wasn't too hard. The family wove through the crowds with ease, reaching the space between Platforms 9 and 10 without any issue. They sat on a bench facing the trains, eyes flitting from family to family until the mother grabbed her daughter's hand, subtly pointing at a loud group of redheads, all of the children except one pushing carts like the one that sat beside them. As the group passed, they could hear the mother hurrying the children along, grasping who could only be assumed to be her daughter's hand tightly. They stopped next to a boy the girl's age, his messy black hair sticking up in all directions and with a rather confused look on his face. Her parents dismissed the group, continuing to minutely swivel their heads in all directions to find another family.

The girl kept her eyes on them. The black-haired boy tagged along to the rowdy group, his snowy owl hooting and hopping along the bars as he pushed his cart. She stood up, her hands wrapping around the hands of her own cart. Her mum and dad stood with her, taking their place on either side as they walked the same path as the redheads.

The girl was stunned when one of the redheads barreled towards one of the brick supports. Containing a gasp of surprise, they all watched as he disappeared right before their eyes.

"Well, I have to admit I was not expecting that," her father said. He smiled down at her and gave her a little push towards the same barrier. "Guess this is your stop Snowflake."

She swallowed and hesitantly lined her cart up with the wall. Took a deep breath. Tightened her grip. Sprinted as hard as she could at the barrier, squeezing her eyes closed at the last possible second, preparing herself to slam into the solid wall of bricks in front of her

The piercing whistle of a train immediately filled the air and she slammed my heels down to avoid hitting people. Her jaw dropped as hundreds of parents and kids filled her sight as well as a very large, very real train filled her sight. A hand landed on her shoulder; she jumped and turned her head to see her parents standing behind her once more, their eyes filled with the same disbelief and wonder as hers.

"You are one lucky kid," her mom whispered in her ear. "Who would have thought the kid of two American government employees could land a spot at a school for witchcraft and wizardry that WASN'T a hoax?"

The girl shut her mouth and lowered her eyes to her cart where her black-and-white cat peered back at her and meowed quietly, his ears flattened against the side of his head.

"Me too, D," she whispered. "Me too."

After being ushered to the door and given a shortish and tearful (her dad would claim only her mother cried later), she hauled her luggage to the appropriate compartment and then made her way to the back of the train, a backpack slung over her shoulders and a cat twisted around the back of her neck. She easily found an empty compartment in the back and sat down on the side closest to the window.

Groups passed noisily by the compartment intermittingly, but not once did she pay them any mind. She stuck her head in a book, her cat curling on top of her legs that were stretched out on the seat. It wasn't until the compartment door slammed shut that she was brought out the world of star ships and Death Stars and lightsabers to the sight of a white-haired boy with a sneer on his face and a posse behind him.

"This is our compartment," he smirked. "So clear out."

The girl leaned to the side to get a better view of his posse then returned to her slouched position, book hiding her face.

"Hey, don't you know who I am?"

The girl didn't look up. Her cat moved from the seat to her shoulders, ears flattened against his head as he silently hissed at the intruders.

"It's Malfoy. Draco Malfoy." There was no response. "What is this trash anyways," he asked angrily, yanking the girl's book out of her hand and flipping through some of its pages. "Is… is this a _Muggle book?"_

The disgust was evident in his tone as he threw the book on the floor and stepped on it. The girl merely looked at him and glared.

"If that is a Muggle book that means she has to be a half-breed, or worse… or a Mudblood," the pug-faced girl said. "Don't let her touch you, never know how much her _kind_ taints us." She shuddered, as did several others in the group still standing at the door.

The only response was a raised eyebrow on top of crossed arms from the unimpressed girl.

"Mute _and_ mudblood? Draco let's go, this compartment is evidentially corrupted by the likes of her," a dark skinned boy near the back sneered.

"Fine. Let's go." On his way out, Draco kicked the book across the floor, beating up the spine as it hit the metal wall of the train and fell open onto the seat. With one last glare he slammed the door to the compartment shut, letting it rattle behind him.

The cat slunk down the girl's front and under a hand, rubbing his head comfortingly against it. The girl's anger slowly faded- not that it had been extremely noticeable before besides a slight tensing. She picked her book up off the seat and resumed her reading.

The rest of the ride was uneventful. A bushy haired girl came around asking for a toad. Two people ended up in her compartment and thankfully left her alone for the remainder of the ride. When they pulled on their school robes, she followed their lead, packing her backpack and leaning against the window, watching the trees whiz by in a brown and green blur as her cat napped on her lap.

After disembarking, robes swishing at her feet, she followed the directions of a half giant yelling for all the first years to go to the boats. Once the small grade arrived outside the Great Hall doors and the teacher- McGonagall- had left, silence lasted two seconds before exploding into chatter. It died down quickly when the Malfoy brat approached one of the redhead kids from before and the messy black-haired kid from before. The conversation was easily heard and duly noted.

The Great Hall was a masterpiece. She spent the entire time looking at the ceiling, wondering what spells were required to change the ceiling and how long it would take her to learn the levitation spell used on the candles. Her new classmates grouped near the teachers table, where a hat sang about the school and the four houses they could be sorted into. McGonagall read names of their class off a list. The bushy haired girl and messy haired boy- who received a shocked silence when his name was read- were put into Gryffindor, the white-haired kid and part of his posse whose names had come up were in Slytherin.

"Amara Stormwind!"

Amara slowly made her way to the front of the dwindled crowd of classmates, taking a seat on the stool while the hat was placed on her head.

 _Hmm a muggleborn child… There is much power here, such cunningness and brains. Could fit well in Ravenclaw… Or maybe Slytherin is the house you belong in? There is much potential for you in either…_

 _ **Wait. What's the difference between the houses again? I tuned out the song you gave after the first few lines because I was trying to figure out why someone wanted to make a talking hat that could read minds to sort children into school houses rather than an information gathering gadget for the government.**_

The hat was silent. Then a resounding "RAVENCLAW" rang through the hall as one of the middle tables cheered. Amara walked down to the table, taking a seat near some of the older looking students who congratulated and high fived her. Then everyone quickly settled bac down for the remainder of the sorting. The redhead ended up in Gryffindor, where the rest of his family appeared to be. Like Malfoy, the hat seemed to have made a decision with minimal amount of time spent on the boy's head.

After dinner she and the small group of first years that had also been sorted into Ravenclaw were shown to the common room and their dorms in addition to describing the castle. As much as she wanted to spend more time exploring the common room library and all it had to offer, Amara dragged her feet up the stairs to her dorm to where her cat was curled up in the middle of the sheets. She climbed into the bed, lifting the covers so her cat could curl up next to her underneath, and thought to herself: _This is one hell of a place and classes haven't even begun._

 _Second Year_

A majority of her time was spent in the dorm room, curled up on a sofa with her cat on her shoulders. Occasionally she branched out to the school's library, but the librarian was such a strict bitch that she couldn't do most of what she wanted. It was there and in class that she saw the white-haired pureblood (a term she had learned as all the muggleborns had started being attacked), Draco Malfoy. Usually he was surrounded by his admirers or his posse, often making a commotion as they passed, but when he was by himself, he often walked by her with either a quiet glare or a curious glance.

This year she had spent more time in the library once the attacks had started, researching magical beasts that could accomplish all that had been done to the petrified students. Unsurprisingly, the bushy haired girl, who she now knew was Hermione Granger, also spent a lot of time there. Being friends with the Chosen One, aka Harry Potter aka the messy black haired kid, and Ron Weasley, aka the redhead child in their year, she was usually well equipped with vital information Amara was missing to narrow her search.

Draco Malfoy had also spent a lot of time in the library, and often not far away from either of the muggleborns. Amara had caught him staring several times at Hermione, but she couldn't quite catch the emotions that flickered in his eyes.

It was one day in the middle of the year when Malfoy tossed a crumpled piece of paper in front of her. Amara expected a degrading note, like many of the others she had received from the Slytherin house. Instead, she held two pieces of paper. One had a message for her; the other, a page ripped out of a textbook explaining basilisks, a large serpent creature.

The note to her read: _Give to Granger. Won't take it seriously from me. Don't ever talk about this._

Amara looked up quizzically, but by the time she had finished reading the note, the boy was gone.

 _Third Year_

Malfoy hadn't acknowledged her presence since that day. Which was fine. She didn't really do the whole friends thing outside of two or three people in other houses. Instead she spent lots of time by herself, holed up by her own stack of books in her room or in the library when her stocks became low.

She really should be more concerned about her grades though. Her History of Magic, Divination, and Charms class were really sinking, but she couldn't bring herself to care for those classes like her Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, and Care of Magical Creatures classes. She pulled out her Divination book with a groan and settled in to write about what her made up dream the night before meant.

Next thing Amara knew, she was blinking awake to darkness enveloping her. _Shit._

She rushed around the room, pulling on her Quidditch practice robes, and raced down the stairs with her broom trailing behind her. Once she made it out of the tower, she hopped on the nearest window sill and (once she made sure no one was looking) she opened the window and jumped on her broom, using a small concealment charm so nobody would see her. She made it down to the Quidditch pitch with seconds to spare, taking a spare club from her fellow Beater as their Captain went over strategies for their upcoming game against Hufflepuff. Not that her job really changed from game to game, to quote Fred Weasley: "Just hit a bunch of balls as hard as you can towards the people you don't like! Highly recommend the Slytherin section."

Practice left her sweaty and smelly, forcing her to take a quick shower in the locker rooms before starting the long slog back to the Tower. As she turned a corner she slammed into someone's shoulder, causing her to spin off balance and grab onto that person's arm to keep herself from falling.

"Sorry," she said, looking up at the person she hit. When she saw the white-blond hair she let the arm go quickly, fixing a blank look on her face. "Actually, no, I'm not," she amended.

Malfoy and his two buddies-Crabbe and Goyle- sneered.

"You better apologize Mudblood," Malfoy spat. "Or my father will hear about this and take care of it just like he did to that oaf's giant bird."

"That _hippogriff_ did nothing to you Malfoy, and you know it," Amara said calmly, taking a step toward the trio. "And that _oaf_ has a name, just like this Mudblood. Learn them and maybe then you'll earn yourself a speck of respect for yourself rather than just throwing your father around. And if you want to fake an injury, learn to do it right. Wrapping a bandage around it means nothing if there's no reaction to pain."

She pointedly looked down to where her hand was wrapped tightly around his "injury" before shoving his arm back at him and walking away, robes swishing behind her.

He went back to ignoring her for the rest of the year, but she caught him glimpsing at her in Potions and Charms. He even moved to a desk closer to her in the latter class, and she often saw him doodling something out of the corner of her eye.

End of the year came quickly, and Amara spent a decent amount of time with Hagrid preparing for Buckbeak's death sentence. She brought down food from the house elves in the kitchen so he wouldn't keep breaking his teeth on the rocks he cooked himself and tried as well as she could to cheer him up. On the day of Buckbeak's execution she couldn't bring herself to go down; she had connected a lot with the hippogriff, sneaking him out for runs and flights. So instead of being close and watching it from the top of the stairs, she chose and obscure window with a magnification charm in a dark corner of the castle. Her cat wove between her feet on the sill before sitting down next to her, letting her scratch behind his ears.

"That dumb bitch!"

Amara jumped at the sound of another person, an angry person at that, don the hall.

"Do you want me to fix it? That Charms guy told us we could do it-"

"You idiots can't even do a summoning charm correctly I am not about to allow either one of you to point your wands _anywhere_ near my face," Malfoy annoying voice rang down the hallway, echoing off the stone walls. "I'm going to the hospital wing. You two go back to the common room and if either of you say a word of what happened with Granger I will hex your asses every day for next year."

Two pairs of footsteps quickly hurried away towards the dungeons. The third headed in Amara's direction and she quickly tilted her head to face the window again.

"What the hell are you doing?" Malfoy's slightly nasally voice came from right over her shoulder but she didn't turn her head, continuing to pet her cat, who had moved to settle on her lap.

"Watching the result of your superiority complex and bullying tactics," Amara replied emotionlessly. "Would you like to join or are you too cowardly to watch the results osidf your own idiocrasy?"

There was silence beside her. She turned to look at him, fully expecting him to have walked away, and was surprised to find him still standing next to her. Very close next to her. Holding a hand to a very bloody nose.

"Someone finally give you what you deserved?"

Malfoy snorted then winced. "I didn't do anything to deserve this, Gryffindor's Princess just punched me for no reason."

Amara glared at him and from her lap her cat hissed. He looked down at her and scowled.

"I did nothing!" he protested.

"Get on your knees and move your hand away from your head."

The shock on his face made her yearn for her camera stashed away in her trunk. His face made her smile.

"Did I stutter?" she asked, keeping her tone polite.

"I don't get on my knees for anyone," Malfoy retorted venomously.

"Well, it's that or face people seeing you walk down the halls with a bloody nose-that punch of Granger's will get around real quick." Amara settled back into the sill, one hand on her cat, the other loosely holding her wand.

A shuffling noise came from right and she was pleasantly surprised to see Malfoy actually sitting down on the ground next to her, facing the window. His hand, covered in blood, rested in his lap, his eyes lowered to the ground in humility. Amara moved her cat to the side, swinging her legs around in front of her and holding her wand in front of her.

"Time to see if I learned this charm correctly," she said cheerily, muttering a short charm and Malfoy swung his head up to her, a cry of disbelief leaving his mouth, turning into a small cry of pain and bringing his hand sharply to his nose.

"You've never done that charm before? Just wait until my-"

""Yeah yeah your father hears about it, I know," Amara muttered in an annoyed tone, turning back to the window. "If this is what I get for helping you just do me a favor and stay away."

"You can't just say you've never tried a spell before and _perform it on someone's face_!" he shouted.

"Well it _worked_ didn't it?"

"But you've never _practiced_ it?"

"Of course I have, how else would I have learned it?! I just haven't had a human subject to practice on yet."

Both of their voices had risen and it had occurred to Malfoy that anyone could overhear them, so he cast a flimsy silencing charm that had Amara frowning. She reached out to touch his nose and he flinched away, his wand coming up between them.

"What, are you too afraid to let my _Mudblood_ hand taint your flawless skin? Get over your fucking prejudices Malfoy, they might leave you with more marks on your face than a half-broken nose. Ones that can't be fixed with a simple spell even those idiots you call friends can remember hearing about." As if backing his owner, her cat hissed and swiped in Malfoy's direction, his ears flattened against his head and tail puffed.

"Your cat is as crazy as you are, Stormwind," Malfoy scoffed. "Bloody demon possessed thing."

"Guess that means I picked his name accurately- wait, did you just call me by my name? What, did Granger punch all of your insults out of your brain?"

His walls were up in an instant, she could tell. His grey eyes hardened, his face tensed, and he stood stiffly, a sneer contorting his face. The small trail of blood left over from his previously broken nose was prominent on his pale face.

"I would never familiarize myself with one of your… kind," he said angrily, pulling himself away.

She could hear the disgust in his tone but couldn't match it to any feeling in his eyes. He lowered his eyes in an instant, as if sensing she knew he didn't believe in himself. The faint sound of footsteps and giggling first years trickled down the otherwise empty hall as the two looked away from each other, one standing stiffly and the other sitting morosely.

As Malfoy shuffled his feet Amara looked out her window again, her magnification charm showing Buckbeak laying down in a patch of pumpkins, looking as if he knew what his fate a few more moments was.

"You should leave," she said, breaking the silence between them.

"I don't need you to tell me what to do," Malfoy snapped, before sighing and running a hand through his already ruffled hair.

"Unless you want to see the repercussions of you constantly complaining to your father over nothing and dealing with having your nose rebroken, I would suggest leaving."

Her words were met with a silence of disbelief. She didn't turn her head to face him. This mood was a complete 180 from when he had first entered her spot but she didn't care.

"Who are you to tell me what to do?"

Something inside her snapped; in an instant her wand was in hand and she was on her feet, sending Malfoy's wand skittering into a corner as hers touched his robes. Her eyes burned slightly with oncoming tears.

"Since you are the reason for a good chunk of the misery I feel today, sentencing an innocent creature _TO DEATH_ over your own fucking _ego."_

He said nothing after that, choosing to simply stare before hesitantly walking away. She stayed in her seat, looking out at a dismal day, arms wrapped around her legs as tears slowly fell. It wasn't long before she murmured _Finite_ on the window and trudged back to the Tower, little Demon trailing behind her.

She didn't hear from Malfoy for the rest of the year.


	2. Chapter 2

_Fourth Year_

He kept looking at her. It was subtle, but she could feel it. Every time she turned a page in her book, threw her hair over her shoulder so she could lean closer, his eyes flicked over to her. Once she caught his eyes, having lifted her head to take a bite of food, and found herself caught in the swirl of confusion in his grey eyes.

A thud of a book slamming down next to her made her jump, breaking the eye contact in favor of reprimanding her now-laughing friend, June, with a slap upside the head. When she turned back, Malfoy had turned back to his friends, joking with his arm slung around a smug-looking Pansy Parkinson.

A trio of Beauxbaton girls giggled their way past the Slytherins, opting to sit across from Malfoy and effectively blocking him from her sights. Their swishing skirts and pretty smiles easily distracted the boys, even those not at the table they were sitting at.

Amara was brought out of her observations by the clatter of a plate in front of her. A rowdy group of Durmstrangs settled in front of her, faces in various forms of stoic and laughing, a combination she never thought she'd see. One of them struck up conversation with her and June about the most effective way to keep a poker face. June seemed more invested in the conversation; maybe she thought the boy was cute? Amara found her mind wandering, her hand moving across the paper in front in short movements. After a few minutes she felt June's elbow jab into her side, which led to a harsh line streaking across her drawing.

 _Malfoy's looking at you again,_ June mouthed, inclining her head to the ever-growing group of Beauxbatons around the bond-haired boy.

Amara shrugged. He had been looking at her all year, but nothing came of it so she didn't show that it affected her. Was he looking for something in particular? For her to spill food all over herself and become a sputtering mess?

The flutter of wings by the ceiling echoed down the hall. Owls swooped down left and right, dropping mails skillfully in the laps of waiting students. Amara eagerly looked up, hoping a letter from her parents would arrive. She was quite surprised when a regal looking barn owl landed in front of her, settling on her empty plate with one leg held out. He was quite insistive, hopping closer to her and giving a little hoot when she didn't make any move to remove his letter.

"Pesky little bugger," Amara muttered as she slowly untied the ribbon and let the letter fall in front of her. After feeding the owl a small piece of toast and watching him fly away, she turned the letter over several times and taking note of the flourished way her name had been written on the front. Before she had a chance to rip the seal, June plucked the letter out of her hands and squealed.

"Amara who is this from?!" June almost fell of the back of the bench in her excitement, saved by one of the Durmstrang students who happened to look over.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Amara replied. She looked around the slowly emptying Great Hall, only to have her eyes drawn to the Slytherins once more, where Malfoy was looking at her curiously. Tilting her head in response, she plucked the letter out of June's hands and shoved it into the depths of her bag, murmuring something about getting to class as she half ran out the Hall.

Grey stone blurred as Amara rushed down to an empty classroom and locked the door behind her. Carefully, she drew out the letter, tracing over the curling letters of her name on the front. It was weird, feeling attention from someone. She spent most of her life learning to blend in and she didn't have any friends. So who was going around writing her letters?

She slid her finger under the edge of the envelope and tore the top open, pulling out the folded parchment inside. A silver bracelet laced with sapphires flew out, twinkling in the bright light from the windows. Using the tip of her wand, she lifted the bracelet up to eye level, her mouth slightly open in awe. She looked down at the letter in her hand, unfolded to display the words: _Something for you to wear to the Yule Ball._

Amara ran her fingers over the jewelry lightly, grumbling quietly.

"Well shit, now I guess I have to go to the dumb ball."

 _~The Yule Ball~_

Amara felt silly walking down the staircase after Hermione, who was a total show stopper in her light-blue gown that made her look like she was floating. Tugging self-consciously at the strands of golden-brown hair that framed her face, she glanced down at her wrist where the silver and sapphire bracelet twinkled. She and her mysterious letter writer had exchanged several letters since the original note; his now came straight to her dorm in the middle of the night often dragging her away from her late night book. They were never signed, and he refused to give her his name, only that they weren't in the same house. She tried a tracker spell on his owl but it always wore off-or was spelled away- after leaving the Tower.

"Amara stop thinking and go find yourself a man!" June swung next to her on the arm of the Durmstrang student who had kept her from falling to the floor months ago.

"I don't dance."

"C'mon Mar, you've got to let yourself have some fun every once and a while! It's all just boring stuff with you. Do you even know how to let go?" June accused, poking Amara in the side.

"I do," Amara said, shirking away from June's sharp jabs, "I just don't like having short-haired Hufflepuff shoving me into a pile of gyrating people in a back room of the castle."

June huffed out a breath and pulled on her date's arm. "Well this is a _classy_ party so I'm sure you can find something interesting to you-"

"Well, I thought the food looked pretty good actually."

"-so Trevor and I will see you hopefully sometime on the dance floor."

"Unlikely," Amara snorted, waving the pair off. "Have fun you two. Remember, no sex in public!"

"AMARA STORMWIND I SWEAR TO GOD-" was all June got out before her laughing date dragged her off and Amara slipped away into the crowd.

For the next few hours, Amara leaned against a wall, twisting her bracelet as she scanned the room. Potter and Weasley were slumped into chairs off to the side, their dates looking bored beyond belief on either side of them. She had already talked to Hermione who had somehow both managed to complain and rave about the ball. Then Hermione introduced her to her date, Victor freakin' Krum, causing a temporary binge on Quidditch talk on Amara and Krum's behalf, for which Amara apologized profusely to Hermione after.

The ball began winding down not long after that, so Amara pushed off the wall and started the long trek back to the Ravenclaw Tower. She had just started up a moving staircase when a large hand wrapped around her shoulder and pulled her back into a dark hallway. Squirming, she managed to free herself and twisted around, fist aiming for her attacker's nose. Before it reached its destination, however, the attacker caught her wrist, so Amara buried her other fist into the attacker's stomach. Her wrist was released and she fluidly took three steps back, feeling a little silly for standing in a fighting stance while in full makeup and dress as her attacker wheezed in the shadows.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"Is that any way to treat an admirer?" her attacker asked, moving from the shadows to the light, leaning slightly against the wall as he continued to normalize his breathing.

He was a Durmstrang student for sure, with thick, dark hair and stone-cut features. His thick accent was also a dead giveaway. He looked familiar, though after a while all the Durmstrang males blended together and looked the same to her. When he mentioned being her admirer, her eyes shot down to the glinting bracelet she was wearing.

"Do I know you?" she asked, relaxing slightly, but still ready to lash out should he ask for it.

"Not particularly, but that's something that could change." He gave her a smile and gestured to her wrist. "I see you like my gift?"

She twisted the jewelry in question, sparing a glance down to it before looking back up in disbelief.

"You sent this to me?"

"Well of course, who else?"

"I don't know." Amara shrugged. "Maybe someone I actually know? It's an expensive piece, I don't understand why someone like you would give it away to practically a complete stranger."

He took a small step forward. "As I said, I have admired from afar. My name is Alexi."

Amara looked at his outstretched hand, confused. "Amara," she replied, without moving. "and I really wish to go to bed so…"

"Ah, yes, I am sorry to disturb your path to bed," he replied formally, bowing slightly. "I will see you later, no? In the meal room, the, oh what is it called, the Great Hall?"

"Um, yes, I guess," Amara stuttered out. "Well, uh, good night?"

She turned quickly and ran the rest of the way back to the Tower, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

* * *

For the next few weeks Alexi sat with her and June at every meal. Behind closed doors June was squealing with joy, so happy someone was giving Amara some sort of romantic attention. Amara was still a little thrown off, for Alexi wasn't at all who she pictured behind the letters that she had been sent. His way of speaking didn't match what he claimed to write, though that could be contributed to the fact that people act different in person, for there isn't as much time to think about one says. _Something_ was off, she could feel it. But the proof was there; once Alexi had revealed himself, in a very creepy and scary way at that, the letters had stopped. Their written conversations had never revealed his name, looks, anything that would reveal his identity.

Alexi was two years older than her and June, an avid Quidditch fan even though he didn't play himself. He had thick, dark hair, cut short on the sides and swept to the side so it wouldn't fall in his blue eyes. He lived with his aunt and uncle and refused to talk about his parents. While polite, there was an edge to his voice that unsettled Amara slightly.

One day when she was walking to the library from Potions class he appeared beside her without warning. She jumped, stifling a scream as he chuckled quietly. She gave him a stiff smile before they dived into a polite conversation, and by the time they had reached the library she was considerably more relaxed, smiling and laughing full heartedly. She walked to her normal table, setting down her bag as Alexi made himself comfortable in the seat next to hers. As she pulled out books for her Transfiguration homework, Amara realized she was missing one key book and excused herself to begin browsing the tall shelves for what she needed. She breezed by one stack in particular and did a double take when a pair of stormy grey eyes met with hers. She could have sworn that, for one second, Draco Malfoy's eyes had softened, but it was over too quickly to tell. After giving the Slytherin a polite nod, she moved on.

Ten minutes later, she was leaning against a bookshelf, a stack of books on either side of her as she leafed through one on her outstretched legs.

"Ah, so this is where you have wondered off to. And here I thought you were abandoning me." Alexi stood in front of her, a coy smile playing on his lips as he looked down at her. "So this is what my little bookworm does when she gets to the library?"

Amara blinked. "What else is there to do in a library?" she asked.

In the blink of eye, Alexi's smile turned sinister, his blue eyes, icy. "Oh there are many things." He knelt over her legs, effectively trapping her. A flick of his wand sent hers skittering away as his other hand fell heavily on her thigh, toying with the edge of her skirt.

"You know," he started, his eyes darting down to the book in front of her, "I do not think I have met any girl as innocent as you that manages to know how throw a punch as good as any man. It's a real turn on."

Amara's hands balled into fists, a movement that did not go unnoticed by Alexi.

"Ah, ah, ah," he chided, hitting her with a small stinging hex as if to remind her who was in charge. "You have been a big tease to me, Amara. I think I would like to move our relationship forward."

With those words he moved forward, smashing his lips against hers. Their teeth clashed and he bit her lower lip as he ruthlessly dominated her. Amara turned her head to the side as soon as she could, her cheeks heated in rage and disbelief and her eyes screwed shut.

"Get off me," she whispered harshly.

Alexi laughed, loudly. "No one can see or hear us, I've cast silencing and disillusion charms in the entrance. So who," he pulled sharply at the front of her shirt so she could see the vicious glint in his eyes, "is going to stop me?"

"I said," Amara hissed, trying to pull out of his grasp, "let. Me. GO!"

A rush went through her system, and suddenly her wand was back in her grasp, flinging a Bat Bogey hex that Alexi barely managed to dodge. While he was off balance, Amara threw a right hook, catching the Durmstrang's cheek and whipping his head to the side. She took his moment of shock to break away, stumbling to her feet. Adrenaline began coursing through her system which numbed the pain in her hand. Her breaths came out as short pants as Alexi laughed madly, softly at first then growing in volume.

"Oh I _knew_ I would get some fun out of you," he grinned, "Miss Nose-Stuck-in-a-Book, Miss Innocent, Miss _Holier-Than-Thou._ They didn't believe I could do it, but it was almost too easy!" He swiped the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood from a split lip across his face.

She was scared. Alexi was blocking her only exit and looked like a maniac, but she could not let him see how she felt. It would only excite him more.

"Let me out," she growled. "Let me go and I'll never speak a word of this to anyone."

"But Amara, dearest, I'm not done with you yet."

He took a step in her direction, eyes and teeth flashing when she matched him with one step back.

"I believe she asked you to leave her alone."

Amara had never been happier to hear someone else's voice on the other side of the bookshelves. Alexi's eyes darkened in anger and disappointment. He turned to face the newcomer, blocking Amara's view of her savior as he held out his hands.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said politely. "My friend Amara and I were just talking-"

"My arse you were talking, it sounded like a threat to me."

"Amara, tell this _boy_ that you and I were just fooling around, there's really no reason to get upset." As Alexi started turning to face her again, she lifted her wand and sneered "Petrificus Totalus," watching his body stiffen to a board and fall to the carpeted ground with a muted thud.

She stepped around Alexi quickly, planning to mutter a quick thank you to her savior before gathering her possessions and hightailing it to her nice, comfy dorm bed where she could freak out alone. Her plans came to a stuttering halt when she saw her savior was none other than Draco Malfoy.

After the Yule Ball many things had changed. June had told her all she would have to do was say the word and she would have Trevor beat up Alexi. They hung out more, just the two of them, as the sight of the Durmstrang males made Amara extremely uncomfortable. When she wasn't with June or in classes, she found herself hunting the library tables for a pair of familiar grey eyes. When she found them and the Slytherin to whom they belonged, she sat down next to him without a word and pulled out her homework. They started out in silence, occasionally broken when she would ask him a question about a saying or an ingredient. Eventually she worked her way up to having full conversations with him, though whenever someone walked by he would lapse back into silence, studiously ignoring her.

By the end of the year she could comfortably say they were friends. On a trip down to the lake she got him to laugh with a stupid dad joke; his eyes had lit up and crinkled as he laughed full-heartedly, encouraging her own chuckle as her blue scarf whipped next to and behind her head. They fell into a rhythm, partnering together in Charms and Transfiguration, doing homework together, suggesting books. In the middle of exams, for the first time, Amara found herself skipping studying. Unable to concentrate, she snagged her new camera from her bag and made her way to the forest line by the lake. Demon, now a much larger black cat, wove his way between her legs before following her lead.

She sat at the water's edge, her camera around her neck and Demon running around her, waiting for the sun to come out from behind a cloud so she could capture the glistening water. When she was satisfied with the results, Amara stood, calling her cat to her, and began her trek back to her room when she spotted a fair-haired boy sitting beneath a tree, staring moodily into the distance.

He was surprised when she dropped down next to him, leaning against the rough tree bark and smiling as the sun warmed her face. There was a comfortable silence, filled with her presence, bringing peace and a tint of happiness to the gloom he dreaded approached the one place he really considered to be home.

 _Fifth Year_

They had kept in touch over the summer, sparingly, but enough to establish presence in each other's lives. She sent him pictures of her adventures with her parents, hiking, kayaking, biking; he complained of his old fashioned parents and small friend group. Upon returning to Platform 9 and ¾, she found herself looking for his white-blond hair before boarding, but she couldn't find him. It wasn't until everyone was seated at the house tables that she first saw him.

He looked haunted. That was the only way for her to describe it. He laughed and joked with his friends, but his eyes didn't light up all the way. His smile looked forced. He glanced at her, and in that moment she saw a hint of his full smile, a breath of relief. She smiled and gave a small wave before turning to watch the new first years be sorted and hear Dumbledore's announcements.

Weeks passed. She found herself hating the new DADA teacher, Umbridge, for she taught nothing useful. There was no more practice in the class. It was meticulous, boring, mind-numbing. Draco barely spoke with her, but she could not figure out why. He almost exclusively owled her, something that made her feel sad. Like she had only the ghost of a friend.

As the year went on, Umbridge continued to overtake the school. New rules had students grumbling in the halls, her hatred toward Harry Potter singled her out; yes, Snape hated the boy, but at least he had reasons, even if they were unclear, for hating the Boy Who Lived. Then Dumbledore disappeared. Draco joined the Inquisitorial Squad, and Amara saw even less of him. But he always looked tired. She never failed to notice that. So she took it upon herself to send him his favorite sweets at night, adding a small card with a flourished A on it. He'd give her a smile the next morning, and if she was lucky enough to be caught alone with him she would get a real smile and a thank you.

Then things began to really spiral. She joined Harry and Hermione's Dumbledore's Army, if nothing but to learn useful spells. She finally conquered the Patronus charm, smiling happily as a bright wolf burst from the silver mist. At night, she'd curl up with Demon and wait until the early hours of the morning to see if Draco would write to her.

She was almost always disappointed.

June pined over her lost love, Trevor, until she found herself a nice sixth year Gryffindor to latch onto, and Amara began to see her less and less between classes and at meals. Amara threw herself into her classes, Quidditch, and Dumbledore's Army. Occasionally she helped the Weasley twins come up with new items. Any letters she received from Draco were left unopened in a drawer by her bed; not that there were many of them. She hid in the library among the books, putting effort in to avoid any Slytherins.

The snake attack on Arthur Weasley circulated the school. More people began to believe Potter about Voldemort returning, only to be squashed by Umbridge's twittering but demanding voice saying otherwise.

Amara felt drained. She didn't know why, but her feet dragged on her way back to her dorm as she thought about how much she dreaded going the DA meeting later that night. As she made her way through the corridors on the third floor, she found the sleeve of her robes being caught and dragged toward a dimly lit portion of the hall. She caught a glimpse of pale hair and fought to free herself, feeling angry that _Draco Malfoy_ of all people thought he had any right to drag her anywhere.

"Stop wriggling," he hissed, looking up and down the corridor as if he was scared to be seen talking to her.

"Let me go!" Amara hissed back, tugging sharply against where his hand had fisted itself in her robes.

"You need to listen to me," Draco said pleadingly, a tone she did not akin to him when he let go of her robes.

"And why in the world would I do that," Amara snapped back, crossing her arms in front of her. "I haven't had so much as three sentences together from you all year and now you want to _talk?"_

"You can't go to the DA meeting tonight," he whispered hurriedly, taking her shoulders into his hands and making sure she was looking right at him.

Her eyes widened briefly in fear of what he said before she brought her walls back up.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said stiffly.

Draco brought one hand up to run it through his hair nervously, letting out a small groan. It was then Amara saw just how keyed up he was; his movements lacked their usual grace, his face was tense, and his eyes kept darting around. His hair was a mop on top of his head, unkempt from the number of times he had run his hands through it. Before she could process what she was doing, Amara found herself reaching up and fixing his hair, parting it to one side before trailing her hand back down the side of his face and meeting his conflicted grey eyes.

She took a step back and muttered a short apology while looking at her shoes.

"You can't go tonight," he whispered hoarsely. "It's not safe."

Her eyes snapped back to his, her mouth open to say she could do whatever the hell she wanted, but nothing came out. He took a step towards her and she didn't move, a sign he took as to go on. His hand twitched at his side, as if he wanted to reach out to her.

The haunted look in his eyes was back. She searched his face as if it would answer all of her questions.

Why did he stop talking to her? Was she a bad friend? Did he hate her?

"Far from it, Mara."

Shit, she must have said that last one out loud. His eyes were dangerous; she turned her gaze back to the stone floors.

His hand on the side of her face, his thumb rubbing small circles on her temple, had her closing her eyes with a sigh. She slowly brought her gaze back to his, to find him looking at her with a sad smile. A noise down the hall startled the both of them, Draco's hand hastily retreating as his head snapped towards the end of the hall.

"I need you to promise," he begged, taking a half step back. "I know I don't deserve anything from you, but I need you to promise me you won't go to that meeting tonight."

She had never been so confused in her life, but the thinly veiled panic in his eyes scared her slightly. Stepping forward, she wrapped her arms tightly around him, nodding slightly into the front of his robes as a wave of sadness washed over her. Tears burned the back of her eyes as he let out a sigh of relief that she felt more than heard. His arms wrapped around her awkwardly, as if he was unused to hugs, and he muttered "thank you" into her messy braid. They stayed like that for a minute, both soaking in the feeling of someone else. She burrowed her head into his chest as she let out a small sniffle, squeezing him tightly.

When he pulled away she swiped at her eyes, eliminating any tears. He gave her a small smile, his hand cradling the side of her face as she leaned slightly into his palm. Before he ran away, he gave her a small kiss on her forehead, leaving her to stand in the abandoned corridor, watching his shadow disappear around the corner.

She let Hermione know that she wasn't feeling well enough to make it to the meeting, dropping heavily onto her bed and falling into a troubled sleep.

The next morning she heard the Inquisitorial Squad had finally caught the DA members in action. While many of the members had time to escape, they were all told via their fake Galleons that all future meetings had been cancelled until further notice.

Amara looked at Draco all of breakfast, trying to catch his eye. But he put in all effort to avoid her. There were no more letters, no more meetings in class. Every time she saw him in the library, he didn't look up, leaving her feeling more lonely than she had ever been. She would sit beside him and he would move without a word.

* * *

A/N: I plan on posting as often as I can, hopefully once a week. I have decided I will aim for Sunday updates, so have Chapter Two a few days early and please review!


	3. Chapter 3

_Sixth Year_

Her summer had been pretty lonely; the highlights had been the letters June had sent her while she and her parents went backpacking across Europe.

Now the new school year had begun; there was a new Potions teacher and Snape finally got his promotion to his long sought after DADA teacher position. Amara found her classes dragging, constantly feeling weighted down. Quidditch was her breath of fresh air; Draco had quit the Slytherin team so she never had to worry about sending Bludgers in his direction during the game. Rodger Davies had led the team to hard earned victories, and his hard work paid off as the Quidditch Cup finally seemed within reach.

A dark presence seemed to follow every student around the school. There were hushed whispers in every hallway, secretive glances stolen. Not even the Weasley twins' new joke shop products were enough to lighten the mood, though Peeves did enjoy his new toys.

A few months into the year, June broke up with her boyfriend of almost a year. It was a messy situation, resulting in June crying all over Amara's clothes one night in the kitchen. A few cups of hot chocolate and some cookies improved her mood, and their relationship was no longer one sided afterwards. Nowhere near what it had once been, but for the moment that was fine with Amara.

Draco was still ignoring her. She constantly saw him in the library, lingering around the Restricted section. Rumors were going around that he had joined the Death Eaters; while Amara didn't wish to believe it, she knew his father was an active follower of the Dark Lord and had a lot of power over Draco. He was never relaxed anymore. His eyes had a constant tightness and never spent too long looking at something unless it was a book. His smile and laugh were often forced. Though he exuded an air of exuberance, she knew it was one of the many walls he had to keep people from getting close.

As the year passed, Draco's health continued to decline. His hair was a constant mess from his nervous tousling of it, his movements were sharp and stilted. He snapped at most of his friends, only calming himself when Pansy Parkinson or Blaise Zabini laid a hand on his shoulder and whispered something in his ear. Crabbe and Goyle- two souls Amara would not doubt also became Death Eaters like their parents- followed his orders without hesitation yet still managed to piss Draco off the most.

There were two times as they approached winter break that Amara managed to catch Draco's eye. The first, in the library. She had been on a ladder reaching for a book when the ladder began to wobble, setting her off balance. Luckily she had not been too far off the ground so when she had fallen she was able to roll off most of the force, but she managed to roll her ankle badly and was muttering several curses under her breath. Tears had rolled down her cheeks and she had squeezed her eyes shut to attempt to dull the pain. Cool hands frightened her to reopen her eyes, only to find none other than Draco Malfoy kneeling in front of her. He had prodded at her ankle, taking note of where she hissed in pain before summoning a length of bandage and tightly wrapping her ankle, studiously avoiding eye contact while Amara had stared at him in disbelief. When he had finished, he simply said: "You should have Madam Pomfrey see that."

He had turned and started to stand when Amara came to her senses and grabbed his wrist. For a moment they had stayed like that, with Draco looking down at her hand. A murmured thank you had left Amara's lips as she lightly gripped his forearm. His left forearm. She had felt the faint presence of dark magic under her fingers, confirming what she had not wanted to believe.

"So it's true?" she had asked quietly, her voice breaking slightly in the middle of her question.

He turned his head down and away from her, ashamed. Not a word passed between them until she had spoken again.

"Just be safe, okay?"

His eyes had practically flown to hers, filling with disbelief as some of the tension seemed to drain out of him. She had smiled softly, releasing his hand to run her hand down the side of his face as more tears had fallen down her cheeks.

Then it was her turn to walk away, drawing back and making her way unsteadily to her feet and half hopping out from between the shelves. A quick glance back had revealed that he had not moved from the floor, but his hands had tightened into fists and his face was turned to the floor in front of him, his eyes screwed shut.

The second time had been at the beginning of December in the Great Hall. He had stormed in, tension evident in his quick stride. He had grabbed the front of Goyle's robes and whispered harshly into the overweight boy's ear. Then he sat between Zabini and a different girl, Astoria Greengrass. Zabini had placed a calming hand on the pale blond's shoulder with a sad smile. Astoria had given Draco a saucy smile and whispered something in Draco's ear that had him tensing even more, his grip tightening what looked to be painfully on his fork. Zabini had scowled at the raven haired beauty and snapped something back at her. He had then turned back to Draco and said something else that had the other Slytherin relaxing slightly.

Zabini had caught Amara's gaze after that and had given her a small smile and a wave before elbowing the now-scowling blond next to him and chuckling. Draco looked up to her and it was like everything about his demeanor changed; the tension in his shoulders disappeared, the worried creases in his forehead smoothed out, and he smiled slightly. A blush had risen in Amara's cheeks before she hurriedly looked back down at her food and stuffed a forkful of pasta into her mouth.

When she had looked back up, Draco had begun to eat, with more gusto than he had in the past few weeks. A contented smile fluttered at the corners of her mouth until she locked eyes with the very unhappy looking younger Greengrass sister sitting on the other side of Draco.

Now it was March. Every time Amara even glanced at Draco across the hall at meal times, Astoria was there beside him, glaring right at her. Zabini often snickered. Draco, in all his infinite stubbornness, kept his head bowed.

He had returned from Christmas break almost unrecognizable. His skin was gaunt and had an unhealthy hue, turning a pale grey rather than pristine white. His eyes were always downcast, but Amara could see they were often rimmed red. His hair fell flat, brushing his eyes but he made no effort to move it. His fingers twitched, he flinched every time someone walked by him.

In the library he poured over restricted section books of dark subjects, hiding in the back shadows and muttering lowly to himself- something he only did when he was extremely stressed. He disappeared between classes, even skipping one or two altogether, and was often seen out of bed after hours.

She was worried.

Then Ron Weasley almost died. She found out from Hermione that Harry saved him after drinking a glass of poisoned mead. Draco got even worse from then on. He skipped almost every meal, stopped paying attention in class. He lost even more weight, making his clothes sag unnaturally.

A few weeks passed, and she kept seeing Potter stare at Draco, sometimes even going through the efforts of tailing him. So Amara started shadowing Potter. It paid off when he followed Malfoy to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom; now she knew where he spent some of the time when he disappeared. That feeling of relief vanished when she found out just _why_ Draco had been visiting Myrtle: to cry, to vent, to finally show all the emotions he kept bottled up.

When the spells started being launched, she scrambled from her kneeling place near the door to find a teacher; an unnecessary effort seeing as she ran into Snape, who boasted his usual unhappy expression, the moment she turned her third corner.

"Draco… Potter… Myrtle's bathroom," Amara gasped.

Snape's scowl deepened, sweeping his robes around her. She trailed behind him as he strode back to where she had come from.

"MURDER! MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER!"

Neither she nor Snape hesitated to sprint towards Myrtle's bathroom; Snape slammed open the door, revealing a blood covered floor with Draco in the center. Potter stood to the side, looking horrified as Snape knelt over a still-bleeding Draco and Myrtle wailed by the top of the stalls.

She had never seen Snape look so cold as when he ordered Potter to stay in the bathroom. As he half carried Draco out, Amara followed close behind, horrified herself at the giant slashes in Draco's clothes and skin. While the blood had stopped flowing and the wounds were healing, she still could not believe that much blood could come out of someone and have them survive.

The trio reached the hospital wing in record time. Snape flung Draco onto the nearest cot; Mada Pomfrey hovered on the other side, already fussing over the unconscious Slytherin. In a few curt words, Snape explained what had transpired in the bathroom. He then promptly turned on one heel and almost ran Amara over.

"I highly advise you get back to your classes, Miss Stormwind," he said coldly, one brow arching to deliver a perfect look of disdain. "Before I deduct 10 point from Ravenclaw for skipping class."

"Will Draco be okay?" she asked softly while peering around the scowling professor in front of her to the bloody cot.

Snape moved sideways slightly and successfully blocked her view of the boy she thought she once knew.

" _Now_ Miss Stormwind."

His scowl deepened and Amara cowed slightly. She picked up her bag, which had fallen on the floor unbeknownst to her, and scurried through the halls to Charms.

Whispers spread through the hallways the next day. _Harry Potter attacked Draco Malfoy. Harry beat Draco's ass in the girl's bathrooms!_ She couldn't really focus. In an effort to reorient herself, Amara decided visiting Draco in the hospital wing would satisfy her nagging mind. Upon entering the wing, however, she was met by the sight of Blaise, Pansy, and Astoria huddled around Draco's bed, laughing at something said out of earshot. Blaise shifted slightly, enough for Amara to catch a glimpse of Draco's slender hand tangled with Astoria's. Her eyes widened briefly and she ducked her head; a moment too late as Draco's eyes caught hers, the grin slowly vanishing to a hesitant smile. She stood in the middle of the floor, class books in hand and hair a usual tangled mess, probably looking like a deer stuck in headlights. His three friends followed his line of sight- Blaise gave her his usual cocky smile and wave, Pansy smirked, and Astoria looked downright vivid, a flush creeping slowly up her neck as her free hand clenched out of sight.

Amara gave a little wave before ducking into Madam Pomfrey's office. The head medwitch did not look too pleased at having her office barged into.

Draco was released later that day, and when Amara saw him running down a nearly empty hallway, he no longer looked like he had in the hospital. Gone was the brief aura of happiness, like a bubble popped it had been replaced with the stress and anxiety lines that had been dug into his pale face after Christmas break.

She wondered what could do that to a person. Had he been given a mission from He Who Must Not Be Named? Was he being threatened?

She was distracted for the entirety of the Quidditch final match against Gryffindor that following Saturday. Her hits were off, luckily not harming any member of her own team, but certainly not helping them any.

Ravenclaw lost the Quidditch Cup that game, losing to Gryffindor by 350 points.

She wanted to yank her hair out in frustration.

Ravenclaw Tower was in a slump that night, especially with the din of the Gryffindors' celebration not too far away. The team was dejected, several of the older students sipping firewhisky on the couches. Amara trudged up to her room and flopped on her bed, pulling the ties so the bed curtains would swish closed around her.

The next few days slogged by in a slow-motion blur. Her movements were mechanical, her eyes glossed over during class. June was a beam of sunshine every morning, happily hopping next to Amara during every meal they had together and chattered away. She piled on puns and bad "dad jokes," a concept Amara regretted introducing June to their fourth year.

Sleep was a luxury Amara was struggling with. She tossed and turned for hours, flip-flopping the line of REM sleep and drifting. One night she woke up to a faint green glow shining through the windows of her dorm; the other four girls were fast asleep as she tiptoed to the window and peered out.

The Dark Mark blazed in front of her in all its skull-and-serpentine glory.

 _Shit._

She threw on a sweatshirt over her tank top and sleep shorts, snagging her wand and sprinting out of the room. Her hair, mussed into a messy braid from her sleep troubles, was out of the way enough for her not to bother. Skipping steps and slamming into the walls of the Tower, she finally arrived in the main corridors where spells were being flung left and right, lighting up the normally dark hallways in colored bursts. On one side she could see Professor McGonagall lauching volley after volley of spells at three different figures in dark robes, on another she could see flashes of red hair as some Weasley took out another dark-robed figure with a well-placed stunning spell.

Amara jumped into the fray head on, adrenaline pumping through her as she fired her own hexes and jinxes at anyone in sight wearing a dark robe. Magic charged the air, shimmering slightly around each witch or wizard she passed. Torches occasionally flared around her as she spun and struck with deadly precision. At one point she saw a flash of white-blond hair and raced after it, narrowly avoiding a body lying in a small pool of blood as she turned a corner. Amara couldn't see Draco, however, so she changed course and began to run towards the courtyard.

Beams of lights crossed the open air, seeming to darken the skies above. Amara shot spells as she ran along the covered hall next to the courtyard, hoping to catch a few of the invaders off guard.

"The Dark Lord has returned!" one cried gleefully, shooting Unforgivable Curses left and right. "Lower your wands and he may show you mercy!"

His pals hollered with him, cackling the way only bad guys in Sunday morning cartoons from her childhood could. In an instant Amara felt a dizzying rush of magic as fire pulsed from the tip of her wand. She could almost feel it, crazy as it sounded, feel the fire, ready to leap towards her enemies. With a guttural yell she hopped the ledge and aimed her wand ahead of her, spreading the fire to the dark robes until they were screaming pillars of light, dropping to the ground and rolling.

When they dropped, Amara saw him; the great and powerful Dumbledore. His body was broken and bruised, one of his hands dead and rotting. Despite the condition of his body, his face looked at peace, as if the man had been sleeping rather than very plainly dead.

"No," she whispered, falling to her knees in front of the man she spent many years listening to. "No, he can't be dead, this can't be right…"

A bright-pink haired woman snagged her arm and dragged her behind a shattered pillar.

"Snap out of it," she yelled at Amara while simultaneously firing spells at the invaders that hadn't been set on fire. "We're not through yet!"

The rest of the fight was a blur. Amara was numb inside, the sight of Albus Dumbledore's broken body constantly present in her mind. She shuffled back into her dorm, stripping and stepping into a hot shower. She ended up sliding to the floor and letting the water wash her clean as she sat there for almost twenty minutes, staring blankly at the tiled walls ahead of her.

They held a public funeral for Dumbledore, before and after which several student went home to their families. Lessons had been suspended. Exams, postponed. Hogwarts fell into a haze. Whispers and rumors flitted every corner. Friends forced their way apart. June had gone home to see her parents, leaving Amara to wander the library alone, studying advanced charms and spell books, absorbing as much she could before classes resumed.

The day of Dumbledore's funeral, she spotted Blaise and Pansy in the crowd and made her way to them.

"Is he okay?" she demanded, snatching Blaise's tie in her hand desperately.

"He's fine," Pansy replied as Blaise tugged his tie away gently. "He's got his own battles to fight though, Mudblood. Better stay away from it all, wouldn't want you to get caught up in the crosshairs."

Amara half snarled at Pansy's sarcasm. "Call me what you want, Parkinson. Don't expect to get anything from me out of it. I told that to Draco many years ago and he took it to heart- I suggest you take a leaf out of his books and try it out sometime. Come off that high horse of yours," she poked Pansy hard in the chest, "and learn a few things for once in your fancy, pureblood life. We are _sixteen fucking years old._ In the Muggle world we'd only be halfway through high school. That's _too damn young_ to be fighting a war. To be fighting alone. So forgive me for giving a shit about someone else and tell me _is Draco Malfoy okay."_

"He's fine." Blaise stepped smoothly between the two girls, eyeing the wand Amara had clutched tightly in her left hand. "Pansy wasn't lying about that. But you do need to back away from this, Stormwind. Draco didn't want you getting hurt because of him, he made that abundantly clear. And if you keep chasing this, chasing him, it won't end well for either of you."

"I'm not chasing him!" Amara yelled, drawing the attention of several students around them. "I'm not chasing him," she repeated in a much lower voice. "I just want to make sure he's okay."

Blaise and Pansy shared a look as Amara looked at her feet.

"Look," Blaise said, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. "I can't promise you anything. I can't promise you any news. But I'll do my best to keep him out of trouble."

Amara breathed out a sigh of relief.

"Thank you," she said earnestly, laying a hand on his left arm. Even through his robes and shirt she could feel the pulse of the Dark Mark. "Both of you."

And with that she turned away, missing the look of complete rage that covered Astoria Greengrass's face. Later that night she found a leather bound book on her bed, a note tucked into the ribbon binding it closed.

 ** _I think this may help shed some light on D's situation. Don't lose it; I think he'd kill me if that happened. -BZ_**

She pulled at the ribbon and cracked the journal open to the first page. Instead of seeing Draco's neat handwriting, however, she was greeted by a simple sketch of a girl with wild hair sitting at a long table, a wide smile covering her face as her eyes scrunched. Amara traced the quill strokes, marveling at the life Draco seemed to capture in the drawing without spelling it to life. On the back of the page she found a date; one from the beginning of their fourth year. As she flipped through the book she saw the occasional landscape, even one or two spell designs but most of the drawings over the past two years, she realized, were of _her._ In class, at meals, in the library…. This is how Draco had coped. He drew.

And the boy had talent. She smiled to herself as she traced the most recent picture; one capturing the small moment they had in the hospital wing.

This book gave her faith.

Draco Malfoy may have disappeared. He may be a Death Eater. But Draco Malfoy was not the prejudiced little shithead she ran into second year. There was hope for him yet.

He had changed. And if he could change, maybe others could too.


	4. Chapter 4

_Seventh Year_

She told her parents that summer that they needed to move back to America. When they asked why, she ducked out of answering, calling over shoulder that they needed to start packing.

They seemed surprised when she sat down with them and explained what had been happening in the wizarding world and Hogwarts. Maybe her letters had glossed over a few (a lot) of the gory bits. But, somehow, for some unknown reason, they agreed with her. At first they demanded she go with them, but Amara steeled her resolve and said she wouldn't leave her friends alone. Not that she really had many friends besides June, but her parents didn't need to know that.

Their house sold, possessions shipped, and goodbyes hugged, Amara and her parents parted on the promise to stay safe. For the rest of the summer she lived with June, bunking in June's neon-purple room, trays of makeup and hair products, and scattered clothes. In all honesty, Amara was surprised June's parents had agreed to let her go back for seventh year; June may be a pureblood but she was still a Hufflepuff and protested against anything Lord Moldey- as they had started to refer to He Who Must Not Be Named, as the previous title was too exhausting to say and his real name had a taboo tracer on it- related.

The train was significantly less packed that year. She and June rode in a compartment with Ginny Weasley, Susan Bones, Luna Lovegood, and Neville Longbottom. There were a few shared laughs, the occasional smile, but the dark aura of what they approached with every passing minute hung heavily over all of their heads, except maybe Luna's. Amara emerged once from the compartment in search of the trolley to buy a round of chocolate frogs and promptly ran into Blaise, whose eyes widened at the sight of her. He glanced at both ends of the train corridor before shoving her into an empty compartment and shutting the door quickly behind him.

"What the hell are you doing here, Stormwind," he hissed, eyes darting around the cabin even though no one was around.

"What do you mean Zabini, I'm here for my seventh year just like you and all your pals." Blaise's eyes narrowed. She gulped. "And maybe to help protect some of the younger ones who don't quite know what is happening."

"You shouldn't be here. Merlin, wasn't the knowledge of going back to a _Death Eater_ run Hogwarts enough to keep you away?" Blaise turned away from her, the corners of his mouth turning down as he groaned, and ran both his hands through his hair. "He's going to kill me. I couldn't do anything about it but Merlin's _arse_ he had to pick a stubborn one. Bloody stupid git-"

"He?" she asked curiously as excitement grew in the pit of her stomach. "Do you mean Draco?"

"Yes, the bloody prick managed to survive this summer, but don't doubt that it wasn't hell keeping the bastard alive." He turned and grabbed her shoulders; Amara took a step back from the force of his movements so she wouldn't fall. "He can't see you."

"Why not?"

"Why must you always ask why?!"

"I'm a Ravenclaw. Call it nature."

Blaise chuckled at her response and ran a hand down his face while resting the other on his hip.

"Bloody hell one day that Ravenclaw curiosity will get us all killed."

"And _what_ in the world is that supposed to mean?"

"For fuck's sake, Stormwind, it means that you _should not be here!_ You should be running for the hills! Hiding! Being anywhere on this fucking Earth but here!" He laughed in the way one does when one is overwhelmed with disbelief. "Especially someone with your background, coming back to what will essentially be a Death Eater camp…"

The lingering end of his sentence did not go unnoticed.

"I know what I'm getting myself into, Blaise," Amara said, her voice soft. "Trust me when I say that and that I have my own reasons for coming back, as impossible as they may seem."

Their moment of understanding was shattered by the slamming open of the compartment doors.

"Blaise, you big buffoon are you- well, fuck." Pansy's jaw tightened upon seeing the two. "Draco's not going to be happy with you, Zabini."

"Why would I not be happy with seeing the little shit? Don't tell me he snuck off to get laid before we even get to Hogwarts."

Draco's disembodied voice rang condescendingly down the corridor. Blaise shoved Amara behind him, using his bulk and height to block Draco's view.

"Blaise, what the actual fuck are you doing?"

It was a breath of fresh air to hear him. Even with his voice taut in annoyance to his friends, thank the Lord he was _alive._

"I'm keeping my secret a secret from _you_ , I want this one all to myself this time and not falling all over you."

That earned Blaise a sharp punch to the kidney from Amara, which he admirably took with only a slight wince. His elbow shot back in retaliation. It caught Amara off guard and she fell to her knees, gasping for air. This, as it just so happened, put her right in the sight of the one and only Draco Malfoy.

Who was glaring at her as if she was a spot of mud on his perfectly polished shoes.

"Blaise do you care to tell me why you pick now of all times to fuck a Mudblood?" Draco's tone was cold and arrogant.

"I have a name," Amara said before Blaise even had a chance to respond.

In a flash, Draco's wand was held unwavering at her throat. Pansy and Blaise both jumped slightly, their eyes wide and hands halfway to their own wands. Amara just stuck out her chin and repeated herself.

"I have a name, Draco. I would hope that even after this long you would know it."

"You will do well to remember your place, _Mudblood."_ Draco dug the tip of his wand into the side of her neck. "Some of the others may not take such an act of disobedience as well as I do and only let you off with a warning."

His eyes were twin circles of steel, but Amara glimpsed the flicker of fear in them. She could see the tightness of his skin, the bloodshot eyes, the shattered boy behind the cleaned-up image of a man.

And just as quickly as he appeared, he was gone, taking Pansy with him. Blaise sighed and moved to follow the pair. When he reached the compartment door, he merely said, "Follow his advice. Lay low and stay out of trouble and maybe we can all make it through this alive."

Of course, once the train reached Hogwarts all bets were off.

The year was miserable. The Carrow twins were in charge of detentions; to any non-Slytherin students, mostly Muggle-borns and those considered to be blood traitors, detention meant torture time. Death Eater children and others would use the time to practice the Cruciatus Curse and occasionally the Imperious Curse. Among those who enjoyed the torture the most were Crabbe, Goyle, Astoria, and a few other no name purebloods.

In an attempt to keep the younger kids safe, Neville and Ginny brought back the DA coins from fifth year. They managed to get the Room of Requirement running so no Death Eaters or their followers could get in and kept those at the highest risk safe inside. Amara and Neville traded times in detention, helping the other limp back to the Common Rooms or the Room of Requirement afterwards. Snape was rarely seen outside the headmaster's office and at meals.

Time dragged on. Every once in a while, Amara would brush by Draco in the halls or see him in the library, his hair mussed, his left arm always fully covered unless in the presence of another Death Eater. She learned early on not to make any effort to communicate, having been caught trying once and received two hours locked in the dungeons for it.

Not all was lost. Sometimes when she left her belongings in the library in search of a book, she would come back to a list of names nestled between pieces of parchment in her bag. These were the kids she and Neville and Ginny moved to the Room of Requirement as soon as they could. Though the lists were never signed, Amara knew just who was leaving them.

Christmas break came and went. Many students didn't return, including Luna and June. Amara knew June and her parents were planning to flee the continent, but was unsure of their success. Luna's disappearance was a mystery.

Such a loss of targets at school meant those who remained spent double or even triple the amount of time as before being tortured. The Unforgivable Curses were brought into the classroom rather than left as entertainment for detention. Amara was thankful she never ran into Draco during those class times.

Then Harry walked through the painting hanging on the wall of the Room of Requirement. The final battle began.

Amara remembered shouting an endless stream of curses, feeling the light of friendly and unfriendly spells whiz by her. Fire danced around her, highlighting faces and darkening shadows. She twirled and ran around countless bodies, unable to look at the faces of the dead and doing what she could to protect the injured.

Never in her life could she imagine feeling relief as Voldemort's voice rang across the school grounds announcing his ultimatum. Alongside her classmates and the Order of the Phoenix members, she carried and dragged the bodies of the injured and fallen to the Great Hall. As much as she hated herself for thinking so, she was grateful not to see the bodies of Draco, Blaise, or Pansy among the dead.

Then she looked around the hall at the damage to the families and people around her.

Fred Weasley was dead. George was kneeling next to his body, sobbing alongside his mother and siblings. Amara walked up to hold George's hand, tears falling as she let George turn to her and cry. She remembered helping the twins come up with new formulas and tricks, designing the ideas late into the night. She remembered how close the twins were and could not imagine the loss George was feeling.

Further along were the bodies of Remus Lupin, the greatest Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher she had had, and the bright pink haired woman Amara had fought alongside a year earlier.

Younger students, faces pale and hands trembling, stared at the lifeless eyes of their classmates on the floor.

Friends and loved ones hugging each other close, aware of just how little time they might have left with each other.

The hour was up. Loud cheers came from the front of the castle; students, teachers, everyone who wasn't providing medical care raced to the noise, wands clenched tightly and hope in their eyes.

Hope that dimmed when the sight of Hagrid carrying a limp Harry appeared in front of a crowd of Death Eaters and Voldemort, all of whom were cackling. Two giants loomed behind them.

Voldemort announced Harry's death with glee. Amara could hear the screams of horror from Ginny and Hermione, but couldn't bring herself to make a sound. The polished wood of her wand dug into the palm of her hand. Tears burned the back of her eyes. Around her, other students and teachers began yelling out, Finally finding her voice, Amara opened her mouth to join the crowd when a flash of light from Voldemort silenced them all.

The Dark Lord had Hagrid place Harry in front of him, like some sort of trophy. He said something Amara didn't quite catch; it was enough, however, to make Ron yell out, breaking the silencing charm. Once again, the crowd behind him rose up in screams and yells. Voldemort began saying something about Harry trying to sneak away to run from the battle, when someone flew at Voldemort from across the courtyard.

Neville Longbottom, the kid who most everyone had teased for being in Gryffindor, had tried to take out the Dark Lord. Now he lay halfway across the courtyard, in the no man's land zone between the two groups, wandless. He was offered a place among Voldemort's ranks, to be forgiven of his blood traitor status, and _he refused._ Amara cheered with other Hogwarts defenders at Neville's refusal. Voldemort _accio_ ed the Sorting Hat before casting a full body bind spell on Neville. He placed the hat upon Neville's head, an action the warranted the movement of several of Neville's friends, including Amara, raising their wands and starting forward until the Death Eaters raised their own wands in retaliation. With a flick of Voldemort's wrist, the Sorting Hat went up in flames on top of Neville's head.

After that all hell broke loose. Screams went up all around; not just from Hogwarts' defenders at the front steps but from those who swarmed over walls and from the forest. A dwarfed giant rushed into the fray in addition to a group of centaurs. Colorful spells once again raced towards either side.

Amongst the chaos, Amara saw Neville slash off the head of Nagini, Voldemort's snake, with the sword of Gryffindor. She heard Hagrid calling for Harry, but didn't allow herself to think much of it. Thestrals and a hippogriff soared over the battle, helping the dwarfed giant fight Voldemort's full sized ones. The fight was slowly pushed back into the Great Hall, where Amara fought back to back with George, trading off shield spells and attack spells when needed. She saw Molly Weasley take over fighting Bellatrix Lestrange from the combined efforts of Hermione, Ginny, and Luna. Lee Jordan joined her and George, and they all stood back to back to back, protecting each other and slamming enemies around them to the ground.

Then, Harry appeared in the middle of the battle. Wands were loosened in shock from both sides as the Boy Who Lived not once now, but twice, protected Molly Weasley from Voldemort. Cheers and screams rang through the air once more before a deafening silence settled.

What happened next, Amara could never quite remember fully. She knew that Harry and Voldemort traded words and insults alike, but the exact sayings were lost on her. Love was brought into questions. Harry's mother's love, Dumbledore's love, somehow even Snape's love. Voldemort had laughed at some point.

Then Draco's name popped up. Draco had disarmed Dumbledore, and Harry had somehow taken Draco's wand, therefore Harry, not Voldemort, was the rightful master of the Elder Wand.

Light flew from Harry's and Voldemort's wands after those words. Green and red light collided in a bang of golden sparks.

Amara was blinded by the collision, as was most of the hall. When the light faded, it was clear to see that Voldemort was dead. While unsure about how it came to be, the defenders roared in celebration. Amara stood her ground as people rushed by her to get to Harry, her shoulders knocked back and forth as people all but climbed over her to get to others. Most of the Death Eaters fled as soon as they came to their senses. A majority of those who fled were captured.

The celebration broke down quickly as people began searching for family and friends. Amara stood awkwardly to the side, pretending to be occupied by the flickering fire of one of the torches on the wall.

She watched as those around her embraced, crying tears of joy and sadness alike. The battle was over, but at a cost. Fifty at least were dead, countless more were injured. Supplies were being brought in as the more serious injuries were brought to Saint Mungo's. Amara caught sight of the Malfoys, who sat on a bench to the side, huddled close to each other. Draco's father's eyes darted to everyone that passed, his wand held tightly. Though his eyes were in constant movement, they were flat, lifeless, as if he could not believe what was happening in front of him. Draco's hair was singed and blood was scabbed beneath his nose, but other than that he seemed unharmed.

Amara sank to the ground, leaning her head against the wall and wrapping her arms around her knees. Exhausted, she closed her eyes, the celebration and chatter lulling her to sleep, stirring slightly as she felt a blanket being placed over her before descending into darkness.

* * *

 **A/N:** I apologize for this chapter being both short and extremely late; I have been very busy working and trying to plan a trip to see a very important person to me at the end of this month. I don't know how often I will be able to update but please know that I will be trying to write! No matter how long this takes this is a project I intend to finish. Getting reviews helps motivate as well... Hint hint.

After this chapter everything is new (obviously)! I hope y'all are looking forward to seeing what lies in store for everyone beyond this point, because everything and anything is up for grabs...


	5. Chapter 5

_Four Years Later_

People passed her in varied states of disarray. A mother to her left was holding a sleeping child in one arm with a bag slung over her other shoulder and holding a toddler's hand tightly in her free hand. A businessman in a full suit ahead of her was muttering angrily to a poor stressed out teen dressed in fast-food employee apparel. A janitor was slumped against a wall, watching everyone pass with glazed eyes. Three teens pushed their way through the mob while shouting half-assed apologies and laughing.

The airport had such a wide diversity of people. And some very slow security.

Amara readjusted her backpack strap on her shoulder, one foot tapping the ground, eyes darting back and forth as she hummed along to the song playing on the loudspeakers.

It had been four years since she had been in London. Not long after the battle, Amara packed her bags and took the first Portkey to America, leaving behind the wizarding world without a word to anyone. The only one who knew was Hermione, only because the two of them had worked on a plan to restore Hermione's parents' memories. Amara found her own parents and went to a four-year university to get a Muggle degree in Engineering in addition to completing Auror training through MACUSA. While Amara had no real plan to get overly involved with the wizarding world again after the war, it was always good to have a fall back plan in case her Muggle life did not work. Her wand often stayed locked in a safe in her apartment, untouched now for months at a time. Currently, it resided under her pant leg and tucked in her boot, an unnatural feeling and yet a somewhat comforting presence.

"Amara!"

A frazzled looking Hermione, waving her hands back and forth, a huge smile on her face, emerged from behind a luggage carousel. A slight smile stole across Amara's face as the two hugged and she received a face full of the bookworm's frizzy hair.

"I forgot how much trouble it was to get to the airport," Hermione snagged Amara's bag before the other girl had the chance to.

"I guess I just got used to it," Amara chuckled. "I thought if I was to take a Portkey I'd puke immediately after. Sleeping on a plane seemed a lot easier at the time." She cracked her neck before continuing. "I also forgot how uncomfortable economy class seats were. Think we could arrange for a Portkey back for me?"

Hermione's smile disappeared. "I'm sure we can, but I don't quite know when you'll be leaving. The case the Ministry asked you to come for… It's pretty big. They are pulling all their resources for this one."

"Oh."

Silence lapsed between them as they walked to a back alley. Once far enough from the street, they linked arms and Hermione Apparted. They landed in the wooden floored hallway of an apartment, Amara dropping to her knees and breathing heavily, resisting the nausea that swept over her. When Hermione made a move to help her, she merely shooed her off. Hermione bit her lip but walked away. Amara shifted to lean back against the wall, head between her knees, gladly accepting the wordless glass of water Hermione returned with. The silence now held an uncomfortable tone as Hermione slid down against the opposite wall, the back of her head banging it slightly as she stared blindly at the ceiling.

"It's quiet," Amara remarked quietly. "Where's Ron? I assumed he'd be here."

"We broke up a year ago."

Another silence; Amara did not know what else to say, choosing to scratch the back of her neck instead.

"I'm the one that broke it off." Hermione smiled ruefully. Lolling her head slightly so she could look at the other girl. "We felt thrown together by everything that happened at Hogwarts… Pressured to be _that_ couple. It wasn't long after we all left for the fighting to start. We tried to get it to work, we really did. Then Lavender Brown came back, convinced Ron that our relationship was not worth it. So I ended it."

"Could've told me."

"And what would that have accomplished? We weren't exchanging information on a personal level. Harry's really the only one who knows the whole story. The Prophet got a hold of Ron for an interview, he claimed he's the one that broke things off. Arguing seemed pointless."

A brief pause.

"So where did you end up after school?" Shifting topics seemed a lot better than continuing their current depressing conversation path.

"With all the research I was doing to restore my parents' memories, I decided to become a Healer. Graduated top of my class, early. Working here in the city at St. Mungo's ever since."

Amara's smile was sincere as she congratulated her friend. She stood up and offered her hand to Hermione.

"Let's go," she grinned.

"Go where?"

"I think it's time the both of us got back into something. You're calling Ginny and the three of us are hitting up the best club we can find. And don't lie to me- I know you still talk to her since you forwarded her and Harry's wedding invitation to me six months ago. Plus she's the only one out of the three of us who knows how to dress for that scene."

* * *

"AMARA!"

It felt like being barreled by a freight train, a red-haired and freckled blur ramming into her at full speed. A breathless laugh escaped as Amara wrapped her arms around the lone female Weasley sibling.

"Hiya Gin."

"It's been so long! And you're lucky it's the off season and Harry's out on assignment. I've been _dying_ to get out."

Amara chuckled. "I had a feeling. Now, what can you do to help me and Hermione make ourselves presentable?"

Hermione shrunk back a bit at the grin that took over Ginny's face.

"I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

In a surprisingly little amount of time, Amara found herself feeling slightly violated by the pair of tweezers in Ginny's hand.

"Amara, you need to stop moving! I just have a few more…. There! Done."

Amara rubbed her eyebrows, a frown marring her features. "I didn't expect this to be a whole process, I thought maybe we'd throw on some make-up, grab some slutty looking clothes from the back of Hermione's closet that she never wears and go to a club," she grumbled, swatting away Ginny's hand when she reached towards her again.

Ginny giggled. "Please, I don't half arse going out. It's all or nothing, Amara Stormwind, and you knew that. Now, where did Hermione run off too?"

Two hours later found the trio finally ready. Hermione kept tugging down the legs of her shorts and getting her hand slapped by Ginny's every time. Amara was wobbling slightly in the tall wedges Ginny had brought with her, feeling the edge of her already short dress riding up slightly. She was just grateful the dress wasn't skin tight like Ginny's, who managed to highlight every inch of her Quidditch-toned body.

Ginny's dress was a vivid blue, highlighting her fire-colored hair, turned a mesmerizing orange in the setting sun's rays. She had no issues walking in her stilettos, easily putting one foot in front of the other in such an effortless manner.

Hermione was in a pair of skin tight shorts, paired with a glittery, loose cream tank top that Ginny had discovered in a box in the back of her wardrobe. She had cast a Warming Charm on herself when Ginny refused to let her wear a worn fleece over the outfit. Luckily, Hermione had a pair of flats that matched her outfit enough to keep the outfit-monster Weasley happy.

Amara's dress was one she had brought with her, a comfortable green dress that Ginny promptly vetoed the length of. When Amara had refused to change, Ginny whipped out her wand and made alterations herself, moving the hemline up until it brushed halfway up Amara's thighs, adjusting the neckline so it showed "the proper amount of cleavage for a night out." When Ginny's back was turned Amara used a Sticking Charm to make sure nothing moved. On their way out the door, Amara also grabbed her leather jacket. She was met with stunningly little argument from Ginny, who merely cocked her head and smiled. Hermione rubbed one arm with her hand, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

"Let's get a move on then!" Ginny's high ponytail swished behind her as she marched to the living room.

"Remind me why we decided to do this?" Hermione whispered.

"It seemed like a good idea before she got here." Amara shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket, feeling slightly more comfortable as the familiar material shifted over her shoulders. "Any clue which club we're going to?"

"Absolutely none."

* * *

"A non-Muggle club? Really Gin?" Amara eyed the line that wrapped around the building. Maybe around the block. "We'll never get in. We could've charmed a Muggle bouncer to let us in."

Ginny merely hooked her arms through one of each of her friends and pushed forward.

"Hey Don!" she grinned widely and the large bouncer standing at the front of the very long line. The front of which did not seem to appreciate three girls cutting in front. "How's Sarah? Remy?"

Don's straight face flickered. He grunted in response to the red head's question.

Ginny merely smiled up at him, pulling Amara and Hermione closer. "Got any room for three girls looking to have some fun?"

Don raised an eyebrow.

"Maybe with the guarantee of two top notch seats to the next three Cannon's games?"

His shoulders loosened and he let the girls in with a small chuckle and many protests from the people standing in line. Protests swallowed by the deep bass of the music currently being played inside the building.

They were stopped before walking through a second set of doors which Amara found to be odd. She was even more confused when she was handed a mask and instructed to tie it over her face. She fingered the material, tracing over the plain white cloth, hoping for an explanation. She did not get one, but she was told she would not be allowed to enter without the mask. Ginny and Hermione had put theirs on while she had been arguing with the mask-holder, and when Ginny saw Amara protesting, she dragged Amara to the side and demanded her to put on her mask.

"You'll be fine," Ginny half-yelled over her complaints, "they just use an Illusion Charm so your identity remains safe. I've been here plenty of times, it's for people's safety. The Charm is activated when you walk through the doors, and when you take off your mask the charm lasts for about two more minutes. Now let's _GO!"_

Ginny grabbed both Amara's and Hermione's hands and dragged them through the door, upon which the bass doubled. Amara could feel the pulsing beat down to her bones, could see the crowd of bodies dancing and grinding, could smell the sweat and liquor in the air.

"I'm going to go get us some drinks!" Ginny shouted, maneuvering between the closely packed bodies to get to the bar while Hermione and Amara waited on the side. Amara forced herself to relax, resting her weight on one leg and bringing the other up to the wall she was slouched against as she scanned the room. Hermione had settled her unease slightly, no longer visibly shifting from foot to foot, but she still hugged her left arm close to her side, her eyes darting everywhere. Her hair had lightened slightly and her eyes had changed to a shimmering blue.

Amara could feel the length of her wand that she had stuck down the back of her dress, was aware of it any time someone walked past her.

Ginny came back to the pair not long after she had left, her bright locks darkened to a shimmering black, her eyes piercing green. Amara would not had recognized her if not for her dress and shoes.

"I have shots!" she squealed, handing one to each girl before clinking her glass with theirs. "Bottoms up!"

Hermione swallowed hers faster than Amara had thought she would, shrugging when Amara gave her a look.

"Helps me relax."

Ginny pulled them both to the dance floor. Amara went along willingly, but felt uncomfortable with so many strangers pressed against her. Ginny and Hermione kept downing shots; she passed hers off to random girls around her (who suspiciously took them without question) and leaned against the wall again, taking in the scene.

The tables surrounding the swarming mob of people where all full, some with girls dressed to the nines wearing the most uncomfortable looking shoes, others with friend groups laughing and shouting at each other to be heard. One table in the corner caught her eye.

There were four people, three guys and one girl, backs to the wall, observing the crowd. They seemed to be talking quietly, unfazed by the noise around them. Amara cocked her head, squinting a little to try and make out their features. The girl was in a slinky black dress, one Ginny would approve of, a black mask wrapped around her long, dark hair. The men wore various colors of the same shirt, all of them wearing some form of flattering jeans in addition to their own masks.

One of them stiffened slightly, as if he could feel someone watching him. His eyes turned from the dance floor to the edges of the crowds, scanning for that feeling. Amara immediately turned her eyes away, slumping further into her stance against the wall, one hand in her jacket pocket and the other behind her head. She could feel his eyes skim over her, caught momentarily perhaps on her pose before moving on. She waited a good two minutes before peeking over at the table again but by then two of the men had left the table, blending in with the rest of the club goers that night.

"Well hey there." A tall stranger in a tight tank top and tight skinny jeans leaned an arm against the wall not three inches from her head. His breath reeked of alcohol and he was swaying lightly forward as he spoke.

"Hi." She spoke dismissively in hopes that he would leave.

"You here alone?"

"No, I came with friends." Amara looked away from him. Maybe he would get the message to leave her alone.

"Right shame they left you here all alone. Especially with an arse like yours."

Amara closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Slowly unfurling herself from her wall, she merely raised an eyebrow at the stranger.

"You should probably go home. Your body odor will probably drive all the other girls away."

She brushed past him, close enough to her his slurred "bitch" before making her way to the bar. She waited patiently at the end of the bar before ordering a water. When it arrived she reached into her pocket for money, only to be stopped by a cool hand on her shoulder.

"I'll pay for it, miss."

The voice was calm and quiet compared to the shouting of everyone else. Just loud to be heard, but not enough to deafen her. Amara hesitated at first, then internally shrugged it off, deciding not to shoot the gift-horse in the mouth.

She turned to thank the man, partially stunned to find it to be one of the four she had observed earlier. As close as they were, she could see him much more clearly. His skin, though somewhat pale looking, had a slight tan, almost seeming to hover over him. He had a dark blue button down, the top button undone; his hair was tousled in one of those perfect "just rolled out of bed" styles that all men seemed to have. His dark brown eyes peered at her through his black mask, looking over her just as closely as she looked over him.

Amara stood on her toes-or at least as much as she could in the damn shoes Ginny had given her- in order to reach his ear so she could thank him without shouting. His height surprised her; even though she was five foot seven with an additional four inches of wedge, she still couldn't get high enough to speak to him in a lowered tone. Which really was not tall, he could not have been more than six foot two or three, but still.

"American?"

His question startled her. She had been slightly intrigued by his cologne; the scent of apples and cinnamon was like a breath of fresh air among the rolling sweat and alcohol pile.

"Yes," she smiled. Her cheeks heated in a slight blush and she had never felt more thankfully to have the stupid mask onto cover it.

 _God, am I really that out of practice talking and flirting with guys?_

"You're a long way from home. What led you here?"

"Work. One of my friends brought me here though. I asked her for a girl's night out, but I guess I wasn't actually prepared for the scene." She sipped some water to relinquish a sudden case of dry throat. "You're from around here though. I can tell. How well do you know this place?" She gestured as much as she could without accidentally hitting anyone.

"You could say I'm… quite familiar. Been a while since I've been here though." He leaned next to her and ordered himself a Firewhisky. "Care to explain why you were eyeing me and my friends earlier?"

Amara choked slightly on her sip of water. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about," she responded, swiping a napkin off the bar to dab at the trickle down the side of her face.

"No?" His eyes sparked in amusement. She felt drawn in, as if someone was pulling her to him the more she looked. She shook her head. He smiled, flashing pearl white teeth.

"Well, then… can I interest you in a dance?" He held out his hand, looking at her expectantly.

She put her hand in his.

"Yes, you can."

* * *

 **A/N:** Hey guys... Sorry for the long absence but I just have had no time since my last update to even consider touching this story again. I've just begun to find some more time for myself and I found this doc on my computer, so we're going to try and continue! Please review, it really does encourage me to come back and keep writing!


	6. Chapter 6

_**The Morning After**_

Amara couldn't remember the last time she had enjoyed herself so much.

It took her a few songs to loosen up, during which the stranger seemed perfectly content to give her as much space as he could on the crowded dance floor. It took "Survivor" by Destiny's Child to bring out her worst dance moves and biggest smile. Ginny and Hermione made brief appearances, each with a follower or two of their own. Ginny gave her a devious smile and a thumbs up when she saw Handsome Stranger (HS for short), who Amara noticed glared slyly at the newcomers. After they left, the DJ played a song with a strong bass, strong enough to pulse through her body with every beat. She finally gave in, turning her back to HS's front, swaying her hips, one hand wrapped around his neck. He wrapped his hands around her hips in response and bent his head so it was closer to hers. She could feel his lips brushing her ear with each swing. It was exhilarating…

And now she could see why Ginny went out all the time.

His hands helped her figure out a rhythm in addition to pulling her _ever_ so slightly closer to him. She couldn't stop smiling, giddiness flooding her brain.

He leaned over her a little more, and she could almost feel the grin on his lips as he spoke in her ear.

"Enjoying yourself?" His tone was slightly cocky and he didn't skip a beat in the music, smoothly changing their rhythm to match the slower beat of the new song.

Amara nodded, giggling and leaning more heavily against HS. She may not have been intoxicated by alcohol, but the carefree manner of all the other clubgoers was infectious.

It was at that moment Ginny stumbled up to them and tugged at Amara's arm, giggling. Hermione was not far behind, a little more steady on her feet but obviously slightly tipsy.

"We have to gooooo 'Mariiiiiiii," Ginny whined. "She," a very inaccurate wave to Hermione, "keeps bugging me about you guys having work tomorrow." She frowned at the woman in question behind her. "Party pooper."

Amara laughed and allowed the pair to start dragging her away from HS. She turned to wave goodbye when HS grabbed her hand and tugged her back to him, stilling her with one arm wrapped around her waist. His mouth brushed her ear again as he spoke to her.

"Next time you come by, go to the front and tell the bouncer that Hogwarts dungeons attract mermaids."

She blinked up at him. "That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"No one has yet to guess it though." He shrugged with a sly smile before leaving her with Ginny still tugging at her.

* * *

"Ugh, Hermione, _please_ tell me you have a pick-me-up potion." Amara stumbled into the kitchen, hand held to her temple and eyes squinting ahead of her.

"On the table! Hurry up, we don't need to be late."

Amara's' eyes skimmed over Hermione, already perfectly put together, robes clean and pressed. "Perfectionist," she mumbled around the mug of tea Hermione placed in front of her.

"Damn right," Hermione winked.

A downing of a potion and two cups of tea later, Amara was able to drag herself through her mornning routine. In twenty minutes, the pair strode out of one of the many fireplaces in the main atrium of the ministry.

"And you can't tell me _anything_ about this, Hermione? Really?"

"Sorry, but even I don't know the full case." Hermione glanced at her watch and picked up her pace. "Harry just told me he needed help, and from what he told me, I recommended you."

"But why?" Amara laid a hand on Hermione's shoulder as they waited for an elevator. "Why could you possibly need a retired Auror, who is living among Muggles and has not raised a wand in battle in the last year?"

Hermione's lips thinned. "You'll see."

The rest of the walk to the office was silent. Amara's mind churned with the possibilities of why she could have been called as she mindlessly followed the _click-clack_ of Hermione's heels ahead of her.

"Amara Stormwind." She looked up and smiled.

"Harry Potter." She held out a hand. "It's good to see you."

He chuckled and shook her offered hand. "I'm assuming I have you to thank for my very hung over wife this morning?"

"Trust me, Ginny got all of us piss drunk last night. Haven't partied that hard in the last two years."

With a slight smile he turned to Hermione and enveloped her in a hug. "And how's my favorite Healer?"

"Your wife administered some torture via makeup and tweezers, but I survived," Hermione laughed.

A comfortable silence washed over the trio.

"So Harry, why am I here? Hermione said you didn't tell her much about the case." Amara fiddled with her wand, twirling it nervously between her fingers.

"I feel that's a better question for the man who's case you're being assigned to." Gone was Harry's easy smile as his eyes breifly made contact with hers.

"And who exactly is that?"

"I do believe that would be me." Amara jumped at the sound of someone behind her, instictivly whipping her head around. Her wand pointed unwaveringly at the dark skinned man who had silently stood behind her. A man with a very familliar face. Her eyes narrowed.

"Zabini?"

"Hi, Stormwind."

There was a tense silence, broken by Harry closing the door and muttering a silence charm. "Blaise works as a consultant to the Auror department here at the Ministry. He's been helping us track down dark artifacts for the past few years."

Amara lowered her wand and gave Zabini a slight smile. "It's been a while. How have you been?"

His face broke into a wide grin. "Since the the Ministry won't hire any ex-Death Eaters, I went into the buisness industry. Earned some stakes in a few companies, sold them off, started my own business. Started loaning out some consultations to these blokes at the Ministry when I heard Potter's team almost offed themselves taking care of some artifacts in the pureblood community."

Harry looked slightly uneasy at Zabini's blunt statement. "You know I'd hire you for more than consultations in a heartbeat, Blaise. But the Ministry…"

Zabini's grin did not falter. He walked up to Harry and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, Potter. Not like I'm suffering. We understood what we were doing when we took on the Mark, what it meant if we lost the war."

The mention of the mark brought another face to Amara's mind, one she had tried shaking off for the past four years.

"So, Zabini, why do you need me?" She spoke quietly, praying that the reason she was thinking was not what she would hear.

Zabini's eyes softened. "I think you have an idea, Amara."

"I haven't talked to him in four years, Zabini. And I think you remember what happened the last time we spoke. So I'll repeat myself: why do you need _me_?" Her eyes flashed as she looked up to the two men in front of her.

"I think there's a hit out on Draco."

"A hit. You think someone paid to have him killed?"

"That is generally what a hit means."

"Don't you sass me Zabini." She raised her wand and poked his chest with it. "There must be plenty more qualified people here if that's all this is. There was no need to pull me in all the way from America. Especially when you know exactly how he'd react to me."

Harry held up a hand. "Put the wand down, Amara. There's a reason Blaise requested you-"

" _You_ requested me?" Amara threw her hands in the air and stalked to a chair. She sank down into it. "I thought Hermione suggested me." She shot a glare at her friend, who offered a slight grimace in return.

"I may have stretched the truth a little-" Hermione cut off at the sight of Zabini stepping forward.

"Do not blame Granger for her actions. I asked Potter to ask you here this way because I knew I would never get you here myself."

"Is this even Ministry business?" Amara asked, directing the question to Harry.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting to Zabini.

"Not exactly. More of a favor."

Amara's head dropped to her hands.

"We think the person who ordered the job works in the Ministry. Someone close to this Auror office if not a part of it. I need time to go through the list, to gather suspects. But I also need to protect Draco." Amara flinched at the second mention of his name.

"I would offer to protect him," Harry continued, "but I think that would annouce to whoever took the hit job that we are onto them. Then Blaise thought of you, especially with your Auror training and.. history… with Draco, we think you'd be the best choice."

"You'd come in under the guise of catching up with an old friend," Blaise offered.

"I don't think you could call us friends anymore, Zabini."

"No one else knows that, though."

Amara sighed. She looked up and met Zabini's pleading eyes.

"Please, Amara," he murmered, sinking down next to her chair. "He may not mean much to you, but he is my best friend, and I can't lose him."

She stood warily, eyeing Potter. "I can't do this for free. I need money for rent, food, clothes…"

Zabini stood up and stepped next to her. "That's where I come in. Since Potter has to make it look like you're not actually working here for the Ministry, I'll be handling you paychecks."

Amara cocked a hip and crossed her arms. "Then when do I start?"

A/N: Well, it's been a while. Let's see if anyone actually comes back to read this. Short chapter, but I'm trying to pick up where I left off and am sorting through notes to remember if there is somewhere this story is actually going. Lmk what you think in a review!


	7. Chapter 7

_**Secrets, Glares, and Cookies**_

"Who knew one of the bad boys of Slytherin baked?" Amara's hand twitched on the countertop to wipe away the rogue stripe of flour on Blaise's cheek as he leaned towards her.

"You will not speak a word of this to Potter."

"In all honesty it surprises me more that you make them without magic then the fact that you make them. Your mother's side of the family is from Italy, right?"

"Looks like someone did their research," he said as he slid a tray of dough into the oven.

Amara tugged the sleeves of her shirt over her hands and fiddled with the edges, focusing on the marble counter in front of her.

"Actually, Draco mentioned you had a family home there when we were in school."

Strong forearms blocked her view of the counter.

"You two really were friends back then, huh?"

Amara shrugged. "I don't know if friends could really describe what we were. We sent the occasional letter over a summer. When I saw him at school I would talk to him, but it was only if no one else was around. I barely saw him sixth year." She glanced up. "And we all know how seventh year went."

"He did risk a lot sending you those lists of kids' names though."

Surprise danced along her features. "You knew about that?"

Blaise snorted and sent the dirty dishes flying into the sink with a flick of his hand. "Stormwind, who do you think covered his arse every time he snuck off to follow you around?"

"Oh."

A smile took over Blaise's mouth. "He was a lost puppy following Granger around our first year. As much crap as he gave her, he was impressed with her brains. We all were." He paused, reaching across the table to tug her sleeves down. "Stop fiddling. It's distracting. Anyways. Granger. Then second year came around and he was all busy being high and mighty, pretending to be 'the Heir of Slytherin' to anyone outside of the house, before she got paralyzed. He was always in the library. Guess that's where he met you.

"Third year, we heard Granger got a hit on him from Crabbe and Goyle, but he walked back into the common room with not a scrape." Amara snorted; Blaise's grin widened. "Later, Pansy and I wrestled the memory out of him. Laughed our arses off at him about it."

"Well, he was being a brat."

"Can't argue with that one. You sure did capture his attention after that though. He tried really hard to keep your nose out of things. Labelled you innocent; maybe that's what facinated him. You were his first thought the moment trouble arose."

Her nose wrinkled. "That can't be right. He barely even knew me. Not to mention he flat out… ignored... " Her head dropped to her arms and groaned. "Lord, I'm an idiot."

Her head was back up in an instant, her finger pointing at Blaise. "Not a word."

He held his hands up in surrender ad chuckled. "Wasn't planning on it."

Her eyes narrowed.

The doorbell rang.

"Bulstrode, can you get the door please?" Blaise called.

A crack sounded next to Blaise, where a house elf appeared, bowed, then cracked away.

"And before you gear up for a Granger worthy rant, yes, the house-elves here are all paid. Fair wages. Want to be here. So don't give me any bloody talks about it, Granger chewed me out more than enough for it."

There was a beat before a gorgeous, black haired woman swept into the room.

"Blaise!"

"Hey Pansy." He kissed both of the woman's cheeks before stepping in for a hug. "How was Paris?"

"Beautiful as always. You'll never believe…"

Amara tuned out the rest of the conservation and stared. This was Pansy Parkinson? Hair perfectly styled, beatifully clear skin, fabulous clothes that looked like they came from top end designers…

 _I am so out of my league here._

"Oh, I almost forgot; Pansy, you remember, Amara, right? Amara Stormwind. She was our year, in Ravenclaw."

Pansy's face gave away nothing. She offered a slightly raised eyebrow and a glance at Blaise before extending a hand.

"Yes, it's been a while, hasn't it Amara?"

 _Perfectly manicured nails too._

"Oh, um, yeah." Amara shook the outstretched hand, feeling grossly inadequate as the sleeve of her weathered shirt brushed the bright jewel tones of Pansy's designer shirt.

"I wish you had told me you'd be having company, Blaise," Pansy said, turning back to face him. "I brought some of my own."

"You didn't-"

"He picked me up! How was I supposed to know- oh hello, Draco, darling, you could have left the gifts with Bulstrode."

Amara sucked in a breath as he walked through the doorway. He was facing Blaise, away from her, arms laden with bags. He looked different than the last time she saw him; he had been pale and gaunt as his family's trails in front of the wizard council began. His frame was now corded with muscle, hair thick and tousled and shiny. He even looked like he had grown an extra inch or two.

"Bloody hell, Pansy, if I'm struggling with these goddamn bags, the poor house elf would be overwhelmed."

"It's called magic, Draco."

He laughed, low and full, as he dumped the bags on the countertop and pulled Blaise in for a one-armed hug. Amara shifted further behind Pansy, determined to stay out of his sight even if by cowardly means.

"Blaise, did you seriously bring another girl home? Did you not learn from the last one?"

From behind Pansy, Amara stiffened when she heard the harsh, judgememntal edge in Draco's tone.

"Draco!" Pansy moved forward to slap his shoulder… exposing Amara, who froze, staring wide-eyed at the man in front of her.

His face had lost the gaunt edge, but his high cheekbones and sharp jawline remained. His mouth was set, body stiff as he worked his way from her feet to her face. Then he met her eyes, and his entire body tensed as his mouth thinned.

"Blaise?" The ice of his tone was enough to bring the temperature of the room down five degrees.

"Yes, Draco?" Over Draco's shoulder, Amara could see Blaise with a smug grin.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?"

He stepped through the doorway with barely a second glance at her. Blaise dropped a hand on Amara's shoulder and gave her a toothy grin. She slumped against the counter, eyes weary.

"Told you," she said sadly as he walked away, grin still stretched.

"Oh Amara, how little you know."

When the boys walked back in, Pansy and Amara were both staring awkwardly at their drinks; Pansy had a full glass of wine while Amara nursed a cup of water. The now empty counter boasted the first round of cookies.

"I asked Bulstrode to takes your gifts upstairs." Pansy easily shrugged off the dead silence, brushing past Blaise with a small smile. "I need to head home, catch up later?"

Blaise nodded. Then he nudged Draco's shoulder. The blond glared at him, stiffly announced he was going home, and swirled back out the doorway without another glance.

Amara decided Draco had the right idea and turned a glare of her own to the remaining Slytherin.

"To be honest, that went better than I had hoped," Blaise responded, not at all put off by her level ten death stare.

"What did you tell him?"

"Oh exactly what he did not want to hear." He picked up a cookie and examined it before taking a bite. "You really need to try one of these, by the way. Fantastic, if I do say so myself."

"Blaise."

"Hm?"

"What exactly did you tell Draco?"

"Oh, I only confirmed his initial observation. Told him I'd slept with you."

"You did WHAT?"

"And boy, did that get a rise out of him. I do not think I've ever seen him turn that particular shade of red before. Wish I had thought to capture it but..."

He trailed off with another bite into his cookie, meeting her eyes. His sparkled with mirth, not a silver of regret to be seen.

"Fucking Slytherins," Amara muttered. "I'm taking the cookies." Her tone left no room for argument. It was a childish move, but damn it, she was going to own it. And chocolate chip cookies always made issues with stupid boys go away.

 _Especially_ stupid Slytherin boys.

It was finally her turn sweep out with a glare, arms full of cookies on the march to the Floo, grumpy and pissed off at the trio of Slytherins she now had to deal with.

* * *

A/N: Hi everyone! Short chapter, but hey it's been less than a year for me to get this out and posted. I'm not 100% happpy with it, but posting helps motivate me to write more. Might delete this later if I come up with content I think more suits the story, but for now, this stays :) Please review!


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